


Blackout

by notabadday



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2018-02-04 07:22:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1770529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notabadday/pseuds/notabadday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In their early days at the academy, a blackout causes Fitz and Simmons to bond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blackout

As Fitz's finger pushed down on the switch of his latest experiment, he watched intently to see if his gadget would power up using the electricity he'd wired into it from the mains. There was an aggressive buzz, before Fitz watched it fizzle out. As the life went out of the gadget, a light fitting in the room exploded. The room flashed to black. He instinctively jumped to his knees, shielding himself behind the table. After a moment of silence, he heard a quiet, "Oh, Fitz," from across the room.

 "Are you alright?"

 "Yeah," Simmons replied casually. "I'm nowhere near the light that blew. Be careful though; it was by the door and you won't be able to see the glass. I think we should wait until someone comes in."

 "Yeah, I don't want cuts. I have very thin blood. Doesn't clot very easily," Fitz reasoned, nodding, though she couldn't see him.

 "And you're squeamish."

 "And I'm squeamish," he concurred. "Wait, how did you know that?"

 "I, err, saw your reaction when I was dissecting that-"

 "Oh. Yes. Dissecting. I always did struggle in biology," Fitz interrupted, groaning heartily.

 "Not with your scores. You could compete at the top if you applied yourself."

 "It's not where my heart lies. I like my toys," he told her, smiling. He didn't have the nerve to admit then that he had been intimidated by her impressive grades and, though not being entirely conscious of it, wished to avoid making them competitors. No; instead their fields would complement each other.

 "Any chance you've got a toy that'll clean up broken glasses in the dark?"

 "Not yet."

 Simmons smiled to herself, silently enjoying the calmness of the two of them sat on the floor of the lab without being able to see a thing. She thought perhaps she should say something, admit the crush she'd been harbouring since she'd seen his hand fly up as quick as hers in their first lecture. Instead, though, she let the moment be. She did brave one admission, though: "I noticed you eating your lunch on your own. I noticed a few times."

 He was silent.

 "Me too. It's hard. Isn't it? Hard. Feels like everyone knows each other, everyone has someone. I don't really know how you break into that. I've never felt so foreign. I thought here it would be okay, you know, that we're 'gifted'. That's what they call us, 'gifted'. I hate that word. I hate that feeling, that isolating feeling at lunch when you just want to be... a part of something. Anything, really. It's not a gift. It's not a curse, either. I'm not saying that. I... it's hard sometimes."

 In the corner of the lab where Fitz was sat behind his table, he listened with closed eyes. There was relief in hearing her say it, to verbalise his experience. It was the one problem he couldn’t solve by inventing some intricate new gadget.

 Simmons was quiet for a moment. She was pausing to let him speak, if he wanted. Despite the fact that he didn't, she felt heard and understood. Mustering some composure, she then asked, "Would you like to get lunch together?"

 "Yes. Thank you," he replied, before the door opened by one of their professors with a blindingly bright torch, lighting the room back up.

 "Oh, Fitz," their professor sighed, prompting Fitz and Simmons to exchange a grin.


End file.
